The initial "steps"

Father always thinks that the steps in our house are low.

There are three steps in our house, which are paved with three bluestones. The slate was written by my father many years ago.

Back from the mountain, each piece weighs about 300 kilograms. The stonemason smiled and carried it on his father's shoulder, saying that he could carry it home at one breath without charging for the stone. As a result, my father recited it three times at once, and he didn't feel that he spent too much effort. It's just that many coming and going mountain roads have worn out his pair of hemp sandals, which is a pity for his father.

The slate was laid in front of the house without being polished by a stonemason. After years of wind and rain, people stepped on cows, and finally it was smoother, but it didn't smooth out a small dent as big as a coin. When there is water on the steps, there are many small bright spots when looking out from the hall. If it clears up, when the cross current blows, the green slate will dry faster than the mud, and my father will clean it with a bamboo broom. The slate is green, spacious and cool, and people can't help sitting and lying down. Mother sat on the threshold and worked, and I was put on the bluestone board. My mother said how good I was then. When I was so good, I knew to get down, grab the green slate with my fingers and draw a thin rustling sound, and I laughed. I opened my mouth and chewed a pile of saliva on the bluestone board, resulting in a mouthful of mud.

If I were bigger, I would stand on that bluestone threshold and jump on the steps. First, take a step, jump, jump, jump! Later, I jumped two steps, jump, jump! Later, I jumped three steps, jump! I felt bored jumping from top to bottom, so I turned my head and jumped from bottom to top, bang, bang, bang! Then I jumped to the second level, bang, bang! Then I jumped three levels, bang! I tried to jump on the threshold in one step, but I had a big fall. Father patted me on the back of the head and said, this will hurt!

Father is very tall, and he feels comfortable sitting on the steps. Father's ass sits at the highest level and his feet are at the lowest level. His feet are wide, and there are many dry ditches with sand embedded in them. Father's feet can't be washed clean. He usually goes to the river to wash them and drags a pair of wet straw sandals back. Probably during the Spring Festival, my father washed his feet at home. That day, my mother was very happy and personally brought him a big basin of water. The basin of water was steaming, and my father sat on the steps and washed patiently. Because of the sand, my father asked for a scrubber and a floor brush. Later, my father's feet were finally washed, and finally the true colors of the feet were washed, but they were also yellow, the color of the soil. I poured him water. It was a basin of mud with a layer of sand at the bottom. Father said that he washed his feet once and felt very light and fell to the ground. Stepping on the hardest bluestone board is like stepping on cotton.

Our steps are very low!